


No Better Time Than The Present

by SneakyBoyMerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, I mean. It’s Morgana POV mostly so that’s to be expected, Morally ambiguous protagonists, Morgause and Morgana only represent rich noble sorcerers unfortunately, Morgause is wise but she uses her wisdom in questionable ways, Prompt Fill, Rare Pair, Revenge Mission, True Love’s Kiss, Villain Protagonists, Vivian is under a spell for most of it but you’ll see her around, hot girl summer, implied war, love potions, love spells, non-chronological storytelling, takes place between seasons 2 and 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29057349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyBoyMerlin/pseuds/SneakyBoyMerlin
Summary: Morgana sees her future as clear as her past.
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon/Vivian (Merlin), Morgana/Vivian (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4
Collections: Merlin Bingo





	No Better Time Than The Present

**Author's Note:**

> Square filled: A1.
> 
> Thought I would try something a little more challenging as far as POV goes. The easiest part of this was writing about girls being in love because all I have to do is project, but it’s mostly just a complex villainess love story.

Morgana has had many doubts in her time.

When she was fourteen, she had a nightmare. Her best friend at the time, Princess Vivian, had fallen out of a tree they weren’t supposed to climb, and broke her ankle on the way down. Morgana woke in a panic, certain it had come to pass, but the scratches the tree had left her were nowhere to be found. _Just another dream,_ she told herself. Morgana had always been mildly afraid of heights, anyways. It made sense.

But when Vivian, the very next day, began climbing a tree that was eerily reminiscent of the one from her dream, she froze.

“Come on, Morgana!” she called down, taking a bite out of a bright fruit growing amongst the leaves. 

Morgana bit the inside of her mouth. Vivian appeared perfectly fine, and she wasn’t exactly the most patient of people. With a sigh, she joined her on the thick branch she was perched on. They swung their legs together, not paying much mind to the words coming from their mouths. The view from here was breathtaking, as long as she didn’t look down.

She had to, eventually, when Vivian began climbing back down the tree. But it took only one misplaced step to send her sprawling to the ground, with a crack Morgana had heard before.

“Vivian!” she shrieked, climbing the rest of the way with no care for the twigs scratching into the soft skin of her inner arms. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” she gritted out, grasping her boot in a tight grip.

“It’s your ankle, isn’t it? Is it broken?”

With a slight nod, Vivian confirmed her suspicions. But it had to be a coincidence, right? The court physician had told her they were just dreams; she’d been thinking about Vivian a lot that night, regardless. Maybe it was a sign to accept his offer of medicines and sleeping draughts. 

She ended up carrying Vivian to the castle on her own back, every step making Vivian giggle despite the pain. Gaius had given them a mouthful, but despite his stern countenance, she could sense his underlying worry. She was worried for Viv, too, putting all her concern into the princess to distract from herself.

But that was many years ago. She knows now that she had every reason to worry. Gaius is still as much of a liar as he was before, misguided by his king as he has always been. 

Uther has to die. That, she has no doubt of. Whatever alliance Morgause is sealing will give them the power to finally usurp the tyrant. From there, they will either save Gaius from his own lack of sense, or prove to be his doom. And Merlin… well, only time will tell.

____________________________________________

“I must wonder why any woman with Uther’s hounds on her trail would step foot into the territory of his allies, nevermind the very castle walls,” Olaf remarks, a steel glint in his eyes as cold and sharp as the blade under Morgause’s chin.

She removes her hood with a smile. “I do not share in your fear of Uther. What has fear garnered my people but death and despair? We are haunted by Uther’s fear with every step, for it follows us even to our graves. The time for fear is over. He cannot control his people without it.”

He narrows his eyes at her but, nevertheless, lowers his sword. “Your words sound far braver than your actions would make you seem, my lady. I have no sympathy for someone like yourself, who would hold an innocent woman captive—a beloved daughter, whether by blood or by choice.”

“The Lady Morgana? Of course _Uther_ believes I hold her hostage. But if you take his hopeful imaginings for the truth, then you are as much a fool as he is. Morgana came with me willingly after she failed to assassinate her king.” 

Morgana and Uther were no strangers to the occasional quarrel in Camelot, despite the king’s declarative affection for his ward, enough to rival Olaf’s for his own daughter. This was not a secret to most of the visiting nobles, who often witnessed Morgana’s open distress over Uther’s more questionable decisions, and Olaf would not be the last to know.

All things considered, he seems to believe her well enough: “Why tell me this?”

“There is little risk in it. Uther would never believe his own ward to hate him so.”

“You speak of him as though he is as young and untested as the prince.”

“He pursues me with all of the power at his command, and still cannot touch me, even within the walls of his own allies.”

“It would be folly to underestimate a force such as the knights of Camelot. Their loyalty knows no bounds.”

“Mine as well. That is the real reason I come to you, King Olaf. I understand you’ve bargained for peace with Camelot, despite your own misgivings about Uther’s rule.”

“That was many years ago. We’ve come to see eye to eye.”

Olaf seems almost too easy to play, Morgause thinks, or else he truly is ready to turn on Uther at the drop of a pin. “Time changes many things, but I’ve found that it rarely affects the content of one’s character. Tell me, my king, where do your loyalties lay?”

The king rubs his chin, deep in thought. “Lady Morgause, you are a sorceress of exceptional skill and knowledge, are you not?”

She fights back a grin, sensing a crack in his facade. “I trained for many years under the High Priestesses. I assure you, I can grant you more than any other ally could wish for.”

“You ask me where my loyalties lay… I am grateful to have maintained peace with Uther, but in truth, I care not for the man.”

“I see. You care more, then, for the people under his rule?”

His face grows stern, true nobility glinting in his eyes. “I would not see more innocents die for his petty vendetta against magic, but would there not be casualties in the warfare you seek? Word has spread of a sleeping spell with the power to halve Camelot’s population.”

“Indeed, Olaf, I feel the same for any life lost, but remember that I am not the one who started this war. If his people fall, then that is a cost we must accept. Any casualties lay on Uther’s conscience. I can only spare those who swear full fealty to me.”

“I doubt any would willingly follow _you_ , Morgause. You are single handedly responsible for nearly killing their friends and family.”

“Ruling through fear has worked well enough for Uther!”

“What I _mean_ to say,” he placates, “is that you may not be as heartless as Uther, but you are in no way fit to rule. You care not for the people but for power and influence. The change you seek is superficial at best. Tell me: if a sorcerer refuses to bow to you, just as they refuse to bow to Uther, will you execute them as well? What of the common folk who have no defense in battle?”

“I see you are not willing to negotiate the necessary sacrifices.”

“If you were merely to dethrone Uther and lift his unjust laws, I could very well agree to this, but you seek only an exchange of power to benefit yourself. The people will suffer under you just as they suffer under Uther.”

“Then it makes little difference who sits on the throne between Uther and I, does it? Except, with a _sorceress_ on the throne, your great kingdom could only benefit.”

“I cannot do what you ask without bloodshed, or I would readily join you.”

She holds back an impatient grimace and replaces it with a desperate, knowing smile. After all, everyone has a breaking point, even the mightiest of kings. 

“King Olaf, you hold steadfast to your honor, and I respect you for this, but I sense there is something more to your refusal. Something closer to heart, perhaps, that I lack the wisdom to offer.” She raises an eyebrow, urging him on.

The shield of emotionless negotiation falls from his face, revealing to Morgause a man as wanting as anyone else. “You lack nothing in wisdom, my lady.”

“Then allow me to help you.” Her voice never once wavers., to her ever-increasing pride.

With a great sigh, he admits, “You say you have all the power of the High Priestesses of Old, enough to take on Camelot herself, but I’ve only one desire. If you cannot help me, then no one can.”

“Tell me, if you are so willing, and I will see what can be done.”

He comes closer to her now, his eyes never leaving her face. He seems more guarded, if at all possible. If rumor serves well, this overprotectiveness can only be for one person. 

“Come with me, and I will take you to her.”

It is just as Morgause expects. Two heavily armed guards are stationed at a set of double doors, only making way for their king. He knocks, twice, and waits for a maidservant to answer. She peeks her head out the door and, with a despondent gesture, welcomes them inside.

The Princess Vivian lays curled up in tangled sheets, despite the bright hour. She’s conscious, but her eyes are glazed as if her mind is in another place. She must see Morgause from the corner of her eye, for how quickly she sits up at the sight.

“Arthur?” she asks, desperately, only for all hope to flee her eyes when she sees that the blonde head is unfamiliar. Vivian groans in misery, hugging her knees to her chest. “I need Arthur. Let me be with Arthur.”

Morgause speaks honestly. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Neither am I. She’s hardly moved from her bed since we returned from Camelot months ago.”

“I hear there was a rather unremarkable duel between yourself and Prince Arthur over her well-being.”

“Indeed, though he was quite honorable in the end—more so than his father, though that is saying very little.”

“So, your daughter is in love with Arthur. I’m sorry, but I cannot control matters of the heart in any meaningful way. It is beyond any magic.”

“I do not ask you to change her feelings, Morgause, for I believe she has already been afflicted in this way.”

She looks into his eyes and sees only the open truth. “How so?”

“The events at the peace treaty were strange, but I thought little of it then. It was not until we arrived here that I realized, though by then I feared it was too late. It was as if I were looking at a shadow of her former self. To be so lovesick, over a man she knew for a few days at most…”

“You think it was an enchantment.”

“Now, do not take me for a fool! I know the Pendragons would do no such thing, and would not have the means to regardless. They wanted peace as much as I did. But Uther was not the only king there.”

Morgause purses her lips in thought. “King Alined may not have magic himself, but he is inclined to use it when it suits his needs, is he not?”

“He had every reason to sabotage the treaty. I believe it was his own pathetic lackey who put my daughter into such a state.”

She sighs. “There is hope yet. If her feelings are not true, as you suspect, then the spell can be broken. But…”

“Get on with it, Morgause.”

“There are endless methods for this type of enchantment, from spells to potions to amulets. It may take time to find a cure for what ails her.”

“I would give the remainder of my years to see my daughter well again. Anything it takes, I will have at your disposal.”

She bows her head to him. “As you wish. But in return, I ask that you host myself and the Lady Morgana for the time being.”

____________________________________________

After a day of sitting silently, nose-deep in yet another spell book, Morgana finally speaks. “Princess Vivian? An _enchantment_ , all this time?”

“It’s not so hard to believe, sister. Magic is no rare thing, no matter what Uther may have led you to believe.”

“No, of course, you’re right. It’s just…”

“What’s the matter, Morgana? Did you know something about this?”

“I had no idea, but I kept close company with Vivian during her stay. I wondered why she- well, the change was so sudden.”

“Sudden, you say?”

“Yes, as if her feelings changed overnight. Neither of us were particularly fond of Arthur, but then before the peace treaties were even signed, Arthur declares their undying love for one another—very publicly, I might add.” 

If Morgause is not mistaken, she would say that Morgana seems solemn. It is not the look she associates with her sister’s scheming, victorious as she usually gets when piecing together a plot. But then, Morgana had known the girl in their adolescent years. Perhaps they had been friends, even.

She considers the new information rigorously. “That may help narrow it down. If the change was overnight, it was likely done under cover of darkness. A spell could be performed at any time, but if it was through a potion, it would need to be administered with great stealth. And we can disregard a good portion of the potions in this book, as these may need several days of dosages to take effect.”

“How many potions does that leave us with?”

“Perhaps forty?”

Morgana sighs. “It seems impossible.”

“We’ve made much progress already. Do not forget how much we need this alliance, sister. Olaf may be the key to ending the Pendragon reign and inducting our own influence across the Five Kingdoms. A roof cannot stand for long without its pillars, and it need only lose one to topple.”

“I do not doubt you, Morgause. I simply don’t understand how we’re meant to distinguish between forty different potions without so much as a hint of what was used.”

“I understand your concerns, but they do us no good. We may sit and surrender to our fears, but in doing so, we come no closer to overcoming them.”

“But we’ve been reading over these same potions for ages! Vivian is still enchanted, and we still do not have an army. What use is all this when we could be putting our efforts towards more direct means?”

“Patience, my dear. Our kind has waited more than twenty years for this. We will endure what we must to ensure the future we all long for.”

“Even if it takes the rest of our lives?” It’s bold and sarcastic, an attitude Morgause normally finds endearing, but grates on her nerves when used against her.

“It won’t be much longer, that much I can assure you.”

____________________________________________

Morgana dreams. This in itself is not unusual for the seer, but tonight is different from most. The bracelet protects her from the vast majority of her visions, but not those it deems harmless. 

She sees Vivian, far livelier than she is now, sprawled across the steps leading up to a wooden porch. She twiddles an orange flower between her fingers, lackadaisical as ever. Morgana’s never bothered to learn its name, but she knows it’s the kind the princess likes. It’s a species that is foreign to Camelot. They sprout within a nearby grove in the early springtime. When Vivian smiles at her, she’s taken back to another place, lifetimes away.

Morgana knocks on the door to Princess Vivian’s guest chamber, anxious to see her friend of years passed. They’d been no older than seventeen, the last they saw of each other. She kneads her hands into her thighs, the way she would watch the cook do to fresh balls of dough on the slower days of her childhood. When the door opens, she refreshes her face with a kind smile. 

“Vivian!”

“Morgana! My, you look so different, I can’t believe it’s been this long!”

Vivian pulls Morgana into a warm hug, and Morgana melts into it. It must have been so long since she was last hugged, for it to have such an effect on her. She pulls away, albeit reluctantly.

“I wanted to welcome you back to Camelot myself, though if this is a bad time, I could always come back later?”

“No, no, I’m glad for the company! Come on, I want you to tell me everything that’s happened since I was here last.”

“That was nearing a decade ago, darling.” Oh, she hadn’t meant to call her that. “What I mean to say is, I’m not sure I’ll be able to catch you up so thoroughly.”

“Nevermind that, _darling,_ I want to know what you’ve been up to for the past… seven or eight years, has it been?”

“More or less,” she agreed, even as a drop of sweat rolled down her back. Very little had changed for so long, until just this last year, and she could tell no one but Merlin unless she wanted to lose her head. “I’m afraid it’s a little underwhelming is all. I still train with the sword from time to time, but I’m mostly saddled with courtly documents these days. Uther divides them up between Arthur and I to prepare us for our future positions in the court.”

“And you’re… happy with that?”

Morgana doesn’t think about it. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Right, of course.”

But Vivian is frowning now, a look which should never cross her face.

“What is it?” she asks, repressing the urge to reach out and comfort her. 

“I just think, sometimes, that it would be so much better to live out in the woods somewhere, like we used to imagine when we were young. We could make our own lives instead of working as one functioning part of a whole.”

“Still can’t stand being cooped up in the castle?”

“I love it there, believe me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really known. But that’s exactly the problem. I’ve been raised to do this one thing, all my life. If I wanted to go out on my own, would I even be able to survive out there? It feels as if I’ve been stripped of all my choices in exchange for a title I’d drop in a _heartbeat!”_ She finishes her rant with a flair.

“I… I understand, in a way, what that’s like. It’s difficult, living by constraints that are so unnatural to you.”

Vivian collapses onto her bed. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve already lost a part of myself to people’s demands. I’m so lost in my own world, where I feel like I’m all alone, that I forget the suffering of others. It’s as if I’ve started to believe I’m just as important as people tell me, and it’s starting to show. I act so arrogant and entitled, but it’s all an illusion, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter whose daughter I am, or whose wife I’ll be. I’m just another person, same as anyone here, aren’t I? But it seems like I forget that a little more every day. I fear the person I’m becoming isn’t the person I want to be.”

Morgana might return to her old habit of biting her nails. “I think I know what you mean.”

“I- I’m sorry, we’ve only just started out again, and I’ve already talked my mouth off.”

“It’s alright,” Morgana rushes to assure her, grasping Vivian’s hand with the same urgency as her lungs breathe with, or her eyes blink with, or her heart beats with. It’s as natural as living. 

Instead of responding, Vivian stares down at their linked hands, and then up into Morgana’s eyes. The sight is far too mesmerizing to look away. She’s being pulled into Vivian’s gaze, the same way a boat is swept in by the current. 

Morgana blinks, and finds herself staring up at the green canopy of her new bed. She sits up, rubbing the ache from her forehead. A dream, she thinks. A memory. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? She has no recollection of the flower and the wooden porch steps, but the rest has already happened, she’s sure of it.

Disconcerted, she leaves the bed, making for the small stack of books on her table. Vivian will never be released from the love spell if she doesn’t at least try. 

____________________________________________

“I’ve got it. _I’ve got it!”_

“What is it, sister?”

Morgana shakes her head. “How did I not see it sooner?”

“What have you learned?”

“Arthur was under the same love spell, Morgause! He couldn’t have fallen in love with Vivian so quickly!”

“Are you saying Arthur is also enchanted?”

“No, sister, he was cured of it. Whatever resources they had in Camelot, it was enough to break it.”

“But no one in Camelot has the kind of power it would take to break the hold of such powerful magic.”

“Exactly, which means they didn’t save Arthur using magic.” She turns the book to face Morgause, the tip of her finger marking the start of a short passage. 

Morgause squints down at the page. “True love’s kiss?”

“What else could it have been? Most of these ingredients can’t be found anywhere near Camelot.

“And,” Morgause adds with a growing smile, “if they could save Arthur but _not_ Vivian, then they didn’t do so by any means they could repeat. They must have found Arthur’s true love.”

“There would have been no way to find Vivian’s. At least, not in Camelot.”

“Oh, Morgana, I knew you had the same wisdom that our mother had. I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, sister.”

____________________________________________

“She’s had… _several_ acquaintances over the years, Morgause.”

“Well, surely she wasn’t in love with them all!”

“Quite the opposite, I regret to say. I don’t believe she was in love with any of them.”

“There must be someone. A secret suitor, perhaps?”

“It is possible, yes. If she believed I would not approve… It wouldn’t be the first time she’s tried to hide something like this from me.”

“Do not worry, my king. Bring these suitors to Vivian’s chambers at the utmost urgency. I will not let you down.”

____________________________________________

In the end, there are only three people Olaf can think of who Vivian may actually love. They explain it to her, that only a true love’s kiss can cure her. Each lover leans down to give her a kiss—Vivian does so willingly, to prove her love for Arthur is true and pure—but there is no change.

“Can I be with Arthur now? Please, father, it is him I love!”

When Morgana dreams, it’s of a sword in Arthur’s gut, and her own lips on Vivian’s. 

____________________________________________

Morgana leans against Vivian’s doorway as the woman stifles her sobs in a feather pillow. “Arthur, Arthur, my love,” she repeats like a prayer.

The sight causes tears to prick at Morgana’s own eyes, and before she knows what she’s doing, she finds herself at Vivian’s bedside, a hand on her shaking shoulder.

Vivian looks up and smiles for the first time in days. “Lady Morgana!” 

It sends an old, familiar warmth through Morgana, one she is beginning to recognize for what it is. But she is under no illusions that Vivian feels the same way.

“If you’re here, then Arthur must be, too, right? Where is he? Take me to him at once!”

“Darling, Arthur did not come with me.”

Vivian’s face scrunches up again before she throws herself back onto the pillow, hugging it like it’s the man she thinks she loves.

She needs any distraction Morgana can give her. “What kind of life would you have with Arthur, anyway?”

The princess looks up again, face brightening with all the speed of a lightning strike. It’s mildly unsettling, but Morgana attributes it to the enchantment. 

“Why, I would be his queen by love, not an arrangement! We would walk the halls of Camelot together, no longer kept apart by our cruel fathers, and rule the land by my king’s side!”

“Right, of course. But you’ve always told me that you wanted to escape the stifling castle walls, to live in a way you weren’t raised into.” _You wanted me to come with you,_ ” she doesn’t say. “Would you really be willing to trade all that for one man?”

“I don’t want any of that—those dreams mean nothing to me! I only want Arthur. And why should you care, anyways?”

“Vivian, don’t make me explain it, I just-”

She finishes her sentence with a kiss to Vivian’s lips, gently cupping the other woman’s jaw in her hands. Vivian freezes at first, before relaxing into the kiss, settling her hands about Morgana’s waist.

It’s a long time before Morgana pulls away, surprised with herself, but when she looks into Vivian’s eyes, they’re familiar for the first time in months. 

Vivian bites her lip excitedly. “So… what was all that about true love’s kiss?”

____________________________________________

They’ve been waiting for this day for a year now. Morgause and Olaf set off to negotiate for Cenred’s army. If this mission is successful, it will spell out Camelot’s doom. 

“However, it will be nigh impossible without a traitor in Uther’s court,” Morgause says, “and there is only one person I trust to remain loyal to me.”

But the reaction to her offer is as abrupt as it is unimaginable. 

“I’m sorry, Morgause, but you’ll have to find someone else.”

“Morgana, this is everything you’ve worked for! Uther’s reign will end, and Merlin will be yours to do with as you wish. Have you not dreamt of revenge in your future?”

“I can’t leave my new home behind to be your _spy._ I… I love you, sister, you can never imagine how much. But my hatred of Uther runs just as deep. If you love me at all, you won’t send me back to Camelot.”

In the end, it’s not Morgause who answers. “Let them go.”

She swivels to face Olaf, features marred by surprise. “What?”

“My price was to lift the enchantment from Vivian. If this is what her heart truly desires, then so be it. You will have my army at your side, Morgause, so long as my dear Vivian can be true to herself once more.”

Morgause’s gaze flickers between Morgana’s hopeful eyes and her hand clasped in Vivian’s. The choice has already been made for her. She’s feared for some time now that this day would come, where Morgana wished to leave her side, though she’d never expected this. 

But fear is a weapon she will no longer be helpless to. “Very well. I’ll be back in a few months’ time, my sister, with news of Camelot’s defeat and that worthless serving boy in chains.”

“I wish you luck, but more than anything, please come back safe. I won’t lose anyone else I care about at Uther’s hand.”

To this, Morgause only smirks. “Uther does not scare me.”

With one last look behind her shoulder, Morgause sets her horse into a trot, disappearing down the dirt path ahead.

Morgana watches her leave, resigned to their separation, before returning her attention to Vivian, who gazes at her with eyes that shine in both pity and hope.

“What now?”

Morgana turns thoughtful for a moment. “Do you remember the grove we used to explore when we were younger?”

“Just outside the castle walls, how could I forget! It has the most beautiful flowers in the springtime…”

Perhaps the odds are stacked against them, but Morgana can see a future for the two of them here, one that she hadn’t imagined would come true in a thousand years. A small, wooden porch, a flower of the brightest orange, and a smile that betrayed none of the worries of their pasts. Vivian had been worth the wait, after all.


End file.
